


Dead on my Feet

by dragontooth52



Series: Tired [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: 'Bit' is an understatment, And are there by name, And more tags, But Nico won't let them, But for now this is what I've got so, But she doesn't know how, Chiron also wants to help, Clarisse is there, Depressed Nico, Depression, Gen, Hazel is trying to be a good sister, Hazel wants to help, I just throw in characters when it's convienient, I'll add more characters later probably, Mortal AU, Most of the seven is mentioned, Nico is tired, Sad Nico, She's a bit of a jerk, Suicidal Thoughts, Then never include them again it seems, but they aren't important, implied depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-10-02 09:00:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10214075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragontooth52/pseuds/dragontooth52
Summary: Nico is tired. He's tired of trying. He's tired of hoping. He's tired of coping. He's tired of existing. He's tired of breathing. He's tired of living. He's done.--------------The long awaited (by like no one) extended version of Tired.





	1. Tired of Trying

Nico stared down at the paper, and the big ugly red letter planted on the top of it. F. An F. Nico hadn’t gotten such a bad mark… ever. In fact, until recently, his marks had never dipped below a B. And here he was, staring blankly at the F.

Part of him wasn’t even surprised. Honestly, he hadn’t even studied. He had just been too tired to. And it was just one exam, one small test. So why bother? But when Nico looked up, he saw the disapproving eyes of his Latin teacher, Mr Brunner, on him. _Talk to me after class,_ his eyes seemed to say.

Dutifully, Nico stayed where he was until the last of the students had trickled out of the classroom and into the crowded corridor. Mr Brunner smiled at him gently, and Nico just wanted to snap at him that he didn’t want to be here, didn’t want this talk.

“Mr di Angelo.”

Nico stood and dragged his feet towards the front of the class. His hand gripped the slightly crumpled report paper. When he reached the front, he avoided Mr Brunner’s deep brown gaze, instead staring at the desk, where neat stacks of paper lay on the brown wooden surface.

“Mr Brunner?” Nico made himself ask.

“No doubt, you are aware of the marks in your most recent test, and how they… compare to previous results you have gotten in school?” Mr Brunner asked.

 _Just tell me I failed and get on with it_. Nico thought. But instead he echoed, “Yes, sir, I am aware.”

“Do you have any idea why?” Mr Brunner asked. Nico glanced up into the teacher’s coffee brown eyes, so full of sympathy and understanding. Well he wouldn’t understand.

“I…” Nico hesitated. He knew _why_ he failed. Because he had been too tired to study. He’d promised himself he’d study the next day when he wasn’t tired, the next day, the next day, the day after that. But he just kept being tired and anyway, it was just one exam. And he was just one kid. What did it matter in the wider scheme of things?

But Mr Brunner wouldn’t understand that. Nico swallowed and finished, “I have no idea, sir.”

Mr Brunner was still gazing into Nico’s eyes. The boy couldn’t look away, no matter how much he wanted to. Finally, Mr Brunner relented, dropping his gaze to instead look at his desk. “Very well, Mr di Angelo, but if you have any problems, then don’t hesitate to let me or any of the other staff know. We’re here to help.”

Nico nodded, but he didn’t listen. He didn’t agree. The teachers were just meant to say that because they were teachers. They couldn’t care less about one student who had gotten one bad mark.

“Well, then.” Mr Brunner said, trying for a smile again, “You may go.”

“Thank you, sir.” Nico said, turning and trying not to walk too eagerly as he exited the room. He crumpled his exam paper with one hand, stuffing it into the pocket of his jacket, and pushed open the door of the now-empty school building.

On the pavement outside, a girl with skin the colour of cocoa waited anxiously, foot tapping rhythmically as she stared at the entrance to the school building. When she saw Nico trudging down the steps, she smiled and waved. Nico forced a faint smile onto his face and waved back.

“Hi Nico.” The girl smiled.

“Hey Hazel.” He replied.

“What took you?” She asked, pulling at the sleeve of his jumper to indicate she wanted to hold his hand. He normally wouldn’t agree, because he hated physical contact, but this was Hazel, his half-sister and she could always get him to do anything. So he opened his clenched fist and she wove her warm fingers between his cold ones.

“Oh, nothing.” Nico tried to keep his voice light. “Mr Brunner was just giving our exam papers back.”

“Was there a problem with yours?” She asked as they began to walk down the path.

Nico stuffed his other hand into his jacket’s pocket and it brushed past the scrunched up exam paper. “No. It was all fine.”

“Then why’d he keep you waiting?” Hazel asked. Nico loved his little sister, but he couldn’t tell her this. She’d want to know why, and how could he explain how helpless he felt, how empty, how tired. It was useless to try. He was tired of trying.

Nico just shrugged and mumbled something inaudible, praying that Hazel wouldn’t keep poking for answers. Luckily, she seemed happy with that answer, and started chatting about her English class and how some guy, Octavian, had been an absolute jerk.

Nico tuned out, focusing instead on how the rest of his afternoon would go. It would probably go downhill when Hazel found out how awful his mark was. Then his father and step-mother would find out. His father would ask him about it, quietly but firmly, but Nico knew he’d be angry. And then there was his step-mother. She would scream and send him to his room because _‘now you’ve ruined your perfect marks, and that was the only reason your still here_ ’. No, _Hazel_ was the only reason Nico was still here.

“Nico?” Hazel’s voice brought him out of his dark train of thoughts. Nico glanced over at her, confused.

“Nico, were you even listening?” Hazel asked.

“Um…” Nico trailed off. Hazel sighed. Nico held back a wince. Why couldn’t he do anything right anymore? What was wrong with him?

Hazel let go of her half-brother’s hand and twirled a piece of her hair around her finger. “I was just asking if you were okay. You’ve been acting… differently lately.”

“Oh.” Nico said. Had it really been that noticeable? “Yeah, uh, sorry about that, I’m just…”

Tired? Empty? Lonely? Nico couldn’t finish the sentence. The two walked in silence for a while, even when they reached the black iron gates that surrounded their father’s property, and walked up the path that led to the front door, and inside.

Once they were inside, with the door closed firmly behind them, Hazel turned to look right into Nico’s eyes, biting her lip. A strand of her hair fell into her eyes and she brushed it away, then said quickly, “Hey, you can tell me anything, you know?”

Nico sighed, staring into the bright golden eyes opposite him. He should have known this would happen sooner or later. He should have known she’d sense something was wrong. Nico tried for a smile, “Thanks, Hazel, but nothing’s wrong.”

He drew his hands out of his pockets, and as he did, there was a crinkling of paper. A ball of scrunched white sheets fell to the floor at Nico’s feet. He remembered the F he had gotten on his exam, and bent to pick it up, but Hazel’s hand was already there.

She picked up the scrunched paper, flattening it out as she asked, “What’s this?”

“Nothing, just, can I have it please?” He said as quietly as he could.

Hazel’s eyes scanned the paper, falling almost immediately onto the giant red F. “Nico. Is this the exam you got back today?”

She sounded like their father. Nico winced.

“The exam that you said you went fine in? What happened?”

Nico stared at the white paper between them. He should have tried harder to hide it. The paper that would cause so much useless fuss. What was the point of the fuss? But Nico was just too tired to hide it.

When Nico didn’t speak, Hazel bit her lip nervously and asked, “What happened? What’s wrong?”

What was wrong? How could he tell her? And if she knew the truth, wouldn’t she tell their father and step-mother? But he had to give her an answer. Nico shuffled his feet nervously, but he managed to look into her eyes as he told her the simplest way to put it. “I’m tired.”

He swallowed the rest of his problems as the two-word sentence ended. Hazel was only twelve. She didn’t need to know. She was too young. She still thought the world was a place full of sunshine and joy and that everything would have a happy ending, like in fairy tales. Nico remembered when he had believed that.

But Hazel brushed his pale hand with her own, and asked softly, “Of what, Nico?”

And suddenly he couldn’t match the burning intensity of the worry in her eyes. He looked down at his feet, “I’m tired of trying.”

He stood, waiting for her to react, to say something, to keep asking and comforting, to do something. But she just sighed, and turned away. Nico looked up and stared at her retreating back, her cinnamon coloured hair bobbing with each step.

The boy stared around the living room, feeling horribly empty. What had she thought? She hadn’t understood. How could she have understood? It was useless, trying to tell other people. Hazel had just walked away.

Nico turned and ran up to his room. He couldn’t face this now. He was too tired even to try.


	2. Tired of Hoping

Nico sighed heavily, staring at his ceiling. Grey shadows were cast against the white, tree branches reaching out like the hands of a monster, the light from a street light casting them through his open window. Nico shifted restlessly, curling into the foetal position on his side and closing his eyes.

It didn’t work.

His over-active brain wouldn’t stop thinking. He’d have to come out of his room sometime. He couldn’t avoid them forever. And he owed Hazel an explanation, right? After all, she was the reason he stuck around.

Without her, he’d probably run away. He’d rather be homeless than live with his parents. Hazel didn’t think they were that bad. But they had never told _her_ that she should be dead. Nico sat up, sitting cross-legged on his bed.

He leant against the wall and stared at his room. Shadows flickered like a ghostly puppet show as cars rushed past in the street outside. He had been so tired all day, all week. Yet now it was night time? He couldn’t sleep.

His mind was on overload.

Maybe if he went outside? Just to clear his thoughts? He crawled forwards and swung his legs out of bed, standing up. His feet his the cold wooden floor and he shivered. He ignored it and bent down to pick up his aviator jacket off the floor.

He slipped it on before walking to his door. He unlocked it and opened it. Something fluttered past his foot, catching his attention. Nico crouched to examine it. A sheet of paper with a drawing on it. A drawing of a dog, a big black one with floppy ears.

Nico would recognise her anywhere. Mrs O’Leary. He smiled, just a little, turning the paper over. On the back, in Hazel’s cursive handwriting, was a message.

_Hi Nico._

_I’m sorry for pushing you. I should have just let you be. But I’m really worried about you. You haven’t been this down in a long time, and I want to help. Mum and Dad aren’t mad, they promised me. They want to help, too._

_Remember, you always have us to fall back on._

_Love you bro,_

_Hazel <3._

After re-reading the letter once or twice, Nico folded the letter carefully and pushed it into his pocket. Then he left his room, closing the door behind him and stepping soundlessly along the corridor. He hesitated at Hazel’s bedroom door. Should he write her a message back?

No. There was no point. He could explain in the morning. Anyway, he wasn’t bothered to write a note now. There was still time. If she could understand this . . . feeling. Or lack of feeling. He kept walking, reaching the front door. He hesitated, examining the silver lock.

It always made a heavy clicking sound when it opened. Would this wake Hazel? Or his father and step-mother? God forbid.

He turned the lock and opened the door, stepping outside. The night was cold and fresh. There was a slight breeze, although it smelt vaguely of exhaust. Dew glittered on the grass. It was probably three in the morning, although Nico couldn’t be sure.

He stepped of the stone path and walked through the grass, ignoring how the bottom of his pyjama pants grew damp and clung to his ankles. He reached the small grove of pomegranate trees his step-mother loved so much.

He plonked down on the wet grass under one and stared at the leaves and shining red fruits. Hazel had said that neither of his parents were angry. Yeah right. What would they actually say?

Nico’s father had knocked on his bedroom door, although Nico hadn’t answered. Why in the world would he? When his father realised there would be no response, he had said, ‘ _Nico, I hope you consider how childish you are acting. I expect you and I to have a little talk when you decide to grow up_.’

Nico’s stomach twisted at the thought. He _was not_ acting childish. He knew his father would act like this. He should have been more careful. He shouldn’t have let Hazel see his paper.

And his step-mother had been even worse. She hadn’t knocked on his door, but he had heard her shrill voice from her and his father’s bedroom next door. ‘ _I’ve told you before, that boy is just acting up for your attention. Ignore him and he’ll realise that it won’t work. Or, if you insist on doing something, send him to boarding school. That will fix him up_.’

Fix him up. Nico winced as her voice echoed through his head. Ignore him. As if he couldn’t hear her! In fact, she probably _knew_ he could hear her. That was probably why she was speaking so loudly.

Well, Nico supposed it was better than what he’d been hoping for. He hadn’t really been hoping for anything, truth be told. He was just too tired. And what was the point? Hope would just make the reality of things hurt even more.

It was easier to cope with things if he didn’t get his hopes up.

“Nico?”

Nico’s head snapped around to stare in the direction that the voice came from. Hazel was standing on the path that wound through the garden, staring at him with her eyes still squinted from sleepiness.

“Uh, yes?” He asked. He wanted to hope that she wouldn’t come over here, but he knew she would. Sure enough, she began picking her way delicately through the grass. When she reached his side, she crouched down, staring at him in concern.

Her hair was still fuzzy with sleep, and her loose fitting purple shirt was slipping down one shoulder. She was so small, so delicate. Nico wished he could protect her from the world.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He mumbled. “Just wanted a breath of fresh air. But, um, I’m going back inside now.”

He pushed himself to his feet and she stood with him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” He forced himself to smile. “What are you doing awake in the middle of the night?”

“I was thirsty.” She said. “But I realised the front door was open . . .”

“Oh. Well, we should both go back to bed.” Nico mumbled, starting back towards the house. She followed him, and out of the corner of his eye, Nico could see her face creased with concern.

“Why aren’t you sleeping well?” She asked after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. “Maybe we should tell mum and dad-”

“No!” He snapped, then took a deep breath to calm down. “No . . . thank you.”

They had reached the front door. Nico stepped back to let Hazel enter first. Hazel stopped and stared at him in concern. “I know I asked earlier . . . but I’m really worried. Are you sure you’re okay?”

He sighed. This question again and again. Each time she asked it was harder to lie. He couldn’t even meet her eyes. “I’m tired.”

Hazel hesitated, biting her lip. “What are you tired of?”

For a moment, Nico considered telling her the same thing as before. He was tired of trying. But when his mouth opened, a different answer came out. “I’m tired of hoping.”

They were both quiet. The answer had surprised Nico as well. The full impact of what he was saying hit him.

He was tired of hoping that things would be better. He was tired of hoping that his father and step-mother would be kind. He was tired of hoping anything would ever be okay.

Nico felt tears well in the corners of his eyes. He turned away from Hazel, muffling a sob. He walked away as fast as he could. He would have hoped Hazel would follow him and comfort him, but, well, he was tired of hoping.


	3. Tired of Coping

“Nico, please, tell me why you failed your exam?”

“I just . . . did, okay?” Nico said through gritted teeth. “These thing happen.”

He stared at the ground. He didn’t want to look up. How _could_ he look up? How could he when he already knew how disappointed and resigned those eyes would be?

“Nico, I am worried about you.” His father said. “If you are not sleeping well en-”

“I’m fine.” Nico interrupted. “I’m sleeping fine.”

“Hazel has told me that when she asked what was wrong, you said you were tired.” His father said. “Perhaps if we were to find a therapist, or get some medication, it would help you?”

“No. Hazel doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” Nico insisted. “But we really have to go to school now. . .”

Nico glanced out the window and saw Hazel, waiting at the gate. She was staring back at the door, and even from a distance, he could see the concern on her face. He stared at his feet again.

“Hmm . . . We will talk more about this in the afternoon, Nico. Your mother is very concerned.” His father said softly.

“Step-mother.” Nico corrected automatically. “That woman isn’t my mother.”

His father just sighed and said, “Go on, off to school for you.”

Nico glanced up as he passed his father. Just as he thought. The disappointment, regret, sadness tinged with worry in his father’s deep black eyes. Nico stared at the ground again as he grabbed his bag, slung it over one shoulder and walked out the door.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hazel smile as he joined her at the gate.

“Sorry for the wait.” He mumbled.

“It’s not your fault.” The gate clicked shut and they started walking towards school. “I hope he wasn’t too harsh, though.”

Nico almost wanted to get angry. He wanted to be angry that Hazel had told his father and step-mother. But she was just worried. It wasn’t her fault. And anyway, he was too tired to be angry.

Nico decided to just keep walking in silence.

Hazel tugged on the corner of his sleeve, showing she wanted to hold his hand. He realised his fists were clenched his pockets and he forced himself to relax. He took a few deep breaths. It was okay. He didn’t need to think about anything in his life right now. Hazel’s hand dropped down to her side again, and she was quiet. Nico realised he’d taken too long in responding. He considered reaching out to hold her hand, but decided against it. Would that be intrusive? Would it make her more worried? He didn’t want to risk it.

The two walked in uncomfortable silence until they reached the school building. They were early, like always. None of their friends had arrived yet. Nico dropped his gaze to the ground again as the two walked to the place they usually met their friends, between the gate and the English classrooms.

Suddenly Hazel stopped, her eyes going wide. “Oh! Oh, I forgot to print my English homework! I have to go to the library!”

“Go.” Nico said, even though he knew his opinion wasn’t needed. “I’ll stay here.”

“You don’t have to wait alone. You can come.” Hazel offered.

Nico shook his head and gestured for her to go. She gave him a small smile, then turned and walked off. Nico drifted over to the side of the school building and leant against it, staring at the ground. The morning was sort of nice, really. It was quiet, at least.

He just hoped that for a while, none of Hazel's - his - friends would arrive, no teachers would notice him and especially that _they_ wouldn’t spot him here, all alone, and decide that today was a good day for-

“Hey, punk.”

Nico winced, without looking up. He didn’t know how they had managed to sneak up on him. He must have just been lost in thought. He could see their feet, though, old, worn out sneakers, or leather boots.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Unwillingly, Nico lifted his head. Clarisse’s ugly face sneered at him. Her brown hair was choppy and tied back with a bandana. Her brown eyes glinted with anger and her nose was crooked, like it had been broken since she was born. On either side of her were two of her ugly friends, snickering.

“Clarisse.” He mumbled. “Come on, let’s just get this over with.”

“Someone’s eager.” Clarisse smirked.

Nico didn’t reply, just pushed himself away from the wall and dragged his feet as he walked around to the back of the building. It wasn’t that he wanted this to happen. God, who _would_ _want this_ to happen?

He just knew it was unavoidable and he was tired of hoping that it wasn’t going to happen. It was, so he may as well get it over with.

He stopped and started to turn to look at the three again, but before he could even spin half way around, a fist collided with his shoulder, sending him stumbled backwards into the wall. He grunted at the unexpected attack, and straightened up.

Clarisse’s fist came at him again, aiming for his stomach. His breath hitched and then he went sprawling backwards, his head banging hard against the wall. He felt all the air in his body leave him. He opened his mouth, gasping for air, but he couldn’t breathe.

His legs collapsed under him and he fell to the ground, gasping. He heard gruff chuckles. He glanced up at Clarisse. Despite her ugly grin, he could see how broken she was. He could see the sadness and desperation in his eyes.

He swallowed thickly, bracing himself as a kick was aimed at his side. _It’s not her fault. This is just a coping mechanism. She’s just coping with her own things_. He wanted to get angry, to fight back, but he couldn’t make himself. He would be lying if he said he had never wanted to take out his emotions on others. All he could feel for her was sympathy. She was just coping in her own way.

Finally, it was over. Nico only realised when he fell to the ground and no one kicked him to get him back up. He curled over onto his side and let out a whimper of pain. He didn’t know how much time had passed. The bell hadn’t rung yet, though. Nico could hear the yells of the other people in the playground.

His arms and legs trembled as he pushed himself to his feet again. The knees of his jeans were coated in dust, and his hands were covered with a mix of dust and mud. He wiped them on his jeans, then tried to brush the dust on his jacket off.

He stood for a few minutes, just staring emptily at his surroundings, before realising Hazel had probably been waiting for him for who-knows-how-long. He wasn’t sure if she missed him, or tried to find out where he had gone, but he didn’t get his hopes up. He was tired of being let down.

He did a quick check, making sure that no bruises, cuts or any sort of marks were visible. But like always, Clarisse and her friends had been careful not to leave marks on his head, hands or legs. They were smart only in the way they hurt him, making it easy for him to hide the injuries.

He swallowed, trying to ease the soreness in his dry throat, and trekked out from behind the building. He caught sight of Hazel, talking to a couple of her – their – friends. He stuffed his hands deep in his pockets and stared at the ground again as he made his way back to her.

“Nico!” She smiled, but he could see that her gold eyes were glittering with concern. “Where were you? I was worried!”

“Sorry.” He mumbled, but didn’t offer an excuse of where he had been.

“Hi, Nico.”

Nico glanced up at Frank, who would probably be Hazel’s boyfriend if either of them were to make a move. He was smiling, although he looked a little tense around Nico, like he always did. Behind him was Piper and Jason, who were boyfriend and girlfriend. Piper looked a little nervous and a little frustrated, and Jason looked mostly concerned.

Nico glanced around again, and his shoulders slumped a little with relief as he realised that _he_ wasn’t here. Nico stopped that thought before it could go any further. He was tired of hoping about _that_.

“Hey Frank. Piper. Jason.” Nico greeted.

“Hi Nico. Are you okay?” Jason asked gently.

Nico nodded, “Just a little tired.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hazel’s eyebrows crept together. He knew what was coming before she asked.

“Nico, please, don’t just say you’re tired.” She said. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

 _Why doesn’t she just believe it?_ Nico tugged on his sleeves nervously and repeated, “I’m tired.”

“Of what, Nico?” She asked again. “Please tell me.”

Nico could see Frank and Piper glancing at each other apprehensively, like they were waiting for him to snap and yell at Hazel. Jason looked just as concerned as Hazel, and kept opening and closing his mouth as if he wanted to say something.

He felt like his mouth wouldn’t work, he couldn’t speak. Finally, he managed to say, “I’m tired of coping.”

He couldn’t meet Hazel’s eyes, but he still saw her face. And behind her, Jason’s ever growing concern, Frank and Piper’s worried confusion. And it was suddenly too much. He spun around to get out of there, because he just couldn’t cope with it anymore. He was too tired to even try coping with it anymore.

But Hazel darted around him and grabbed his wrist, halting him. “Why are you tired?”

Nico couldn’t answer. _Why_ was he tired? Why was he so, so tired? Why couldn’t he cope anymore? He couldn’t find the words, so he didn’t say anything.

“Why?” Hazel pleaded.

Nico didn’t answer. He tugged his wrist out of her grasp and walked away. And this time, she just let him. Well, _good_ , that meant he didn’t need to cope with her or Jason or Frank or Hazel. He was tired of coping with them anyway.


	4. Tired of Existing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So . . . I'm back with more depressing Nico.  
> Don't worry, I'm not giving up on this story, but I was overseas for a while and forgot my laptop, where I had already written most of this chapter. Great job me, am I right?

Nico hesitated, one hand on the gate. The sky above him was dark and star-speckled. He’d stayed out later than he’d intended. He checked his phone. 27 missed calls. 14 text messages. Most were probably from Hazel.

She was probably furious that he’d avoided her all day, and run off after school. What was the time? He checked the time on his phone. 8:49. Nico winced, hand clenching the gate. Slowly, he swung it open, and walked up the path, listening to the gravel crunch under his feet, no matter how quietly he tried to step.

He fished his keys out of his pocket and slotted them into the keyhole. Almost painfully slowly, so as not to alert anyone, Nico unlocked the door and entered the house. He hesitated by the doorway. He could hear his step-mother and father arguing in the kitchen. And quieter, Hazel crying softly in her bedroom.

Nico avoided them all and headed to his room. But even in his bedroom he could hear his father and step-mother.

“-I’m telling you, he’s doing this to spite us.” That was his step-mother. “He’s just seeing how much you’ll forgive him for. You need to be stricter with him, make sure he knows his place!”

“This all seems very out of character for Nico.” His father said, a lot calmer than his step-mother. “I want to help him, not hurt him.”

“It wouldn’t be hurting him to say he should be back before dark!” His step-mother argued back. “He could be doing anything out there!”

Nico slumped down against the wall, trying to ignore the fighting.

“Well, he isn’t answering his calls, we have no way to find him. What can we really do?” His father asked.

“Don’t ask me!” His step-mother cried.

Nico stood up again, and walked over to his desk. He tore a page out of one of his workbooks, and began to write a message.

_To Hazel._

_I’m home. Sorry for ignoring you. I’m fine. Tell our father and step-mother not to worry. I’m in my room. Please just leave me alone. I want to get some sleep, I’m a bit tired._

_Nico_.

He folded it and wrote her name on it again, then stepped out of his room and walked down the corridor to Hazel’s room again. He knelt and slipped the paper under his door, standing and walking as quickly as he could back to his room. Nico’s door clicked shut and a moment later, he heard Hazel’s door open.

Her feet tapped down the hallway and then she knocked on his door. He didn’t answer. He couldn’t make himself answer. He was too tired to answer. Nico pulled his phone and earphones out and turned on his music to top volume. That way he wouldn’t be tempted to answer the door.

He flopped back on his bed and watched the shadows slowly as they slid across his room. Sometime during the night he realised he should be sleeping. After all, he was always telling Hazel how tired he was. But Nico didn’t make any move to pull his blanket over his eyes, or pull out his earphones. Or even close his eyes.

Finally, a small beam of sunlight shone onto the roof, signally daytime again. Nico braced himself and slowly sat up, stretching his stiff limbs. He would have to get ready for school. He would have to drag himself through another long day of torture. At least tomorrow would be Saturday.

Nico left the house before Hazel. He couldn’t hear anyone else awake as he closed the front door behind him. The sky was a dull grey, the horizon stained an ugly purple, like a bruise. Nico got to school when the gates were still closed and locked. He debated climbing over, but it wasn’t worth it.

Instead he just slumped down outside the towering black fence and tucked his knees to his chest. He was hungry, but he didn’t really want to eat. He didn’t have anything to eat anyway. Or any money. He rested his head on his knees and closed his eyes.

He was tired, so maybe he could get some sleep now. But it was cold, and he was too uncomfortable crouched there, and as always, sleep evaded him.

“Nico?”

Nico sighed into his knees and lifted his head, knowing who it was before he even saw her.

“Nico!” Hazel’s footsteps got louder as she ran to his side. Nico glanced up at her. Her face was flushed pink and her breath was uneven. “Nico, we were looking everywhere.”

She crouched beside him, and put one hand on his shoulder. Nico felt himself tense up, but he forced himself not to push her hand of his shoulder. He thought about what she had said.

“We?”

“Me, Dad and Mum.” Hazel said. “They were really worried, even though I showed them that note and . . . and- andwhy are you ignoring me?”

“I’m not ignoring you.” Nico said instantly.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

He stood up and stretched. “Do you have any money?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Have you eaten?”

“No, but Nico-”

“We should go to a café or something. There’s time to get something for you to eat.” Nico said, holding out a hand to pull her up. Hazel took his hand and stood up. Nico was going to let go, but she wound her fingers through his.

“Nico, can you please listen.” It wasn’t a question.

Nico sighed and half turned away. “Hazel, I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“This is important.” Hazel said. “I care about you Nico, and I want to help. I don’t know what’s going on in your mind, but if you’d just talk to me and let me help you-”

“I don’t need help! There’s nothing wrong!” Nico insisted. He pulled his hand away from hers.

“Nico, please tell me what’s wrong!” Hazel said. There were tears in her eyes. Nico wanted to turn and run. He didn’t want to be in this conversation.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wro-” His voice cracked and he felt tears welling in his own eyes.

Hazel put a hand on his shoulder and pulled his back around. She hugged Nico. “Please tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

“I’m tired.” He said by default.

“Of what?” Hazel asked.

Nico pushed her away and turned around. How could he tell her when he didn’t know himself? All he knew was that he was tired – exhausted – of having to get up each day, of eating, of talking to other people.

He took a step forwards, he wanted to get out of this conversation, he had to. But Hazel grabbed his wrist and pulled him back around.

“What are you tired of, Nico?” Hazel asked. Nico looked into her golden eyes and felt like his insides had frozen. He didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted to keep as far away from her as she could.

“I’m tired existing.” As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Hazel’s arm fell away from his, and he ran. He didn’t know where he was going, but Nico had to get away. He couldn’t hear Hazel’s footsteps behind him, but that didn’t stop him.

He realised he had ended up back at home only when he passed by the gate. He stopped and stared at the front door. His father and step-mother would be gone, at work by now. Their car wasn’t there. Well, good. That meant that no one would force him to spend another day at school. He was tired of going there anyway.

No one would notice if he was gone for one day. If the school called, he’d pretend to be his father and tell them that he was sick. If Hazel called he’d ignore her. She’d have to stay at school by now, anyway. It was too late to search for him. She didn’t even know which way he’d run, did she?

Nico unlocked the front door and stepped inside, shrugging off his bag and stepping on the heels of his shoes to take them off, then locking the door behind him.

At least he had a chance to get some sleep. He never seemed to be able to get enough now days.


	5. Tired of Breathing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. Took me long enough.

The shadows seemed to move slower than ever during the day. Maybe because Nico could see them so much better, could count each time a car sped by on the street outside with a muffled _whoosh_. Like always, he tried to get sleep, but his thoughts just kept circling back to what had happened with Hazel.

Why had he said that? He was only making her more worried! She’d tell their father and step-mother and her friends and maybe even the teachers. He shouldn’t have said he was tired of existing. What did that even mean anyway?

Nico thought it was sometime around midday when he gave up on trying to get some sleep, after the warm sunny air from the window starting turning stuffy and suffocating and the light was blinding his eyes whenever he opened them.

He took another deep breath, feeling dust tickle and itch at his throat, and sat up. His step-mother was always cleaning the house, why on earth was it so dusty? It would be so much easier if Nico didn’t have to breathe this dusty, warm, stuffy air. He pushed himself off the couch and heard the warm wooden floor squeak under his feet.

He wandered to the door, slipping his shoes on and opening the door. Like always, the silver lock clicked heavily. The air outside was just as warm as inside, but it was less dusty. He stepped outside and closed the door, then made his way down the garden, kicking his feet as he walked across the perfectly mowed lawn, wanting to spite his step-mother in some way, to ruin her pristine garden.

Nico flopped down under his favourite pomegranate tree, leaning back on its familiar wooden trunk. The last time he was out here the air had been cool, bitter nearly. The sky had been a deep blue-black with speckles of silver stars. And Hazel had been there too. He hadn’t shaken her off so completely then.

And it had only been days ago. How many exactly? Two, or maybe three? Nico didn’t want to know. Then he’d know exactly how fast things had changed.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn’t want to answer. His mind was screaming at him not to answer. But his hand seemed to move of its own accord, automatically checking who was calling. Hazel.

Nico braced himself. He couldn’t ignore her forever. It would be better to talk on the phone, right? Where he didn’t have to see her face, her concern, her worry. He could end the conversation with the press of a button and go back to ignoring her.

He took a deep, painfully, stuffy breath and answered the phone.

“Nico.” Hazel’s voice was relieved.

“Hey Hazel. How’s school?”

“Where a-are you?”

Nico winced at how worried and upset she sounded. “Sorry for running off.”

“It’s- it’s okay.” Hazel’s tone said that it definitely wasn’t okay. “Just t-tell me where y-you are now?”

“Are you crying?” Nico felt guilt eat away at his stomach. He felt empty, hollow, each breath hurt.

“Pl-please tell me where you are, N-Nico.” Hazel said quietly.

“I’m at home. Why?” He frowned. “You aren’t leaving school just to find me, are you? Don’t. You should stay in class.”

“I’m- I’m not in class r-right now.” Hazel said. There was a muffled sob. “It’s lunch. A-and I’m in Mr Brunner’s o-office. He- he wants you t-to come to school and t-to talk. Mum and D-Dad are here.”

“Can they hear this conversation?” Nico said, worried. How much did they know? Probably everything. How angry would they be with him? What would they do? Lock him in his room? Send him to therapy? Would his step-mother finally force him to leave?

“N-no.” Hazel said. Nico could imagine her shaking her head, hair bobbing, eyes wide and teary, lips turned down in a delicate frown, worry creasing her face. He stopped imagining that.

“So you need me to come to school right now? What about your class. And Mr Brunner has to teach history after lunch today.” Nico said, desperately trying to find an excuse, to stall and get out of it.

There was a pause, and some muffled background talk. Then Hazel said, “Mr Brunner s-says that he’s organised someone e-else to cover h-his class while he t-talks to us.”

Nico sighed, standing and stretching, shaking the stiffness out of his body. “I’ll be there soon.”

The walk was lonely without Hazel’s presence. He hadn’t noticed earlier, too caught up in his own emotions. Now he felt empty and incomplete without his younger sister by his side, talking and smiling and just being there, filling the silence that Nico always felt, crashing in his ears and drowning him in his thoughts. How could silence be so loud?

He walked into school, which was silent and empty now lunch was over. He wandered down the hall, footsteps tapping along the empty corridor. Finally, Nico reached the door to Mr Brunner’s office. He could hear muffled sound of his step-mother’s loud, shrill voice.

He raised a hand and cautiously knocked on the door. His step-mother’s voice stopped. The door creaked open and suddenly Hazel had thrown herself on him, wrapping her arms around him. Her hair smelt of cinnamon and her arms were warm and it felt safe and comfortable. Nico was suddenly so tired in her arms.

But he pushed her away, trying for a tired smile, but he wasn’t sure if it reached his face. Hazel grabbed his hand, winding her warm fingers between his cold ones and led him into the office. He tried to tug his hand out of hers, but she didn’t let him.

Mr Brunner was sitting at his desk, coffee eyes serious. His father and step-mother were sitting on chairs facing the desk, turned to look at him and Hazel as they walked to the two empty seats and sat down. Nico finally tugged his hand out of Hazel’s and stared down at his hands resting in his lap.

“Thank you for coming in today, Nico.” Mr Brunner said, voice calm and quiet.

Nico didn’t say anything. Didn't look up.

“It has come to my attention that you seem to be having some trouble lately.” Mr Brunner said. “I offered my help before, but I think now I really do need to interfere. As your year advisor, I think we should talk about it. Your family is worried about you. You have been skipping school and distancing yourself from them.”

Nico still didn’t reply. What could he say to explain how empty and hollow he felt?

“Nico, we want to help you.” His father said into the silence that followed Mr Brunner’s speech.

“Please, Nico.” Hazel said.

The air was still stuffy in here, making it hard to breath. There was a lump in his throat. He opened his mouth but no words came out.

“We think you should see a therapist.” Mr Brunner said. Nico’s step-mother sniffed haughtily. “And we can excuse you from doing homework for a while, if it would make you feel better-”

Finally, Nico made his voice work. The words were shaky and chocked out unevenly, but they were words none the less. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Don’t treat me like I’m different. I’m fine.”

“Nico, please-”

Nico stood up, the chair scrapping on the wooden floor. He turned and stormed out the door. The moment it clicked closed behind him he was running. He heard footsteps behind him, heard Hazel’s voice yell at him to stop, but he didn’t. His breath was ragged in his throat, he was panting as he ran. His eyes were blurred with tears. Why was he crying? He wasn’t sad! His feet stumbled, but he didn’t slow down. Not until he was out of the school building, across the yard, out the gate, down the street.

He couldn’t hear Hazel behind him anymore. He skidded to stop in a small side street and crouched down in a ball. Sobs racked his body, making him shudder with each uncomfortable breath.

He wasn’t sure when, but finally his sobs subsided and he was aware of a soft, warm hand on his shoulder. He looked up, trying to identify who he saw despite his blurry eyesight. Hazel. She was speaking, voice soft, words comforting. “-and Mum still thinks there’s nothing wrong, so she says you don’t have to go to therapy and-”

Nico made a chocked sound, trying to tell Hazel that it was fine, that he was fine, that everything was fine, even though it clearly wasn’t.

“What’s wrong?” She said softly, golden eyes reflecting his own tear-streaked face at himself. He gets lost in those eyes, he can’t answer. He doesn’t want to answer. Hazel just waits, her hand on his shoulder, crouching next to him in the lonely street on the stuffy, hot summer day.

Finally, Nico built himself up to answer. A small, quiet, almost inaudible answer, one he’d said so many times in the last few days. “I’m tired.”

For a while Hazel was quiet, then she finally asked the question Nico knew was coming. “What are you so tired of.”

And suddenly Nico just breaks. He can’t do this, he _has_ to get out of this situation. He only realises he’s standing when Hazel’s hand grabs his arm. He tries to pull away again, but she doesn’t let him. She pushes him back, trapping Nico against the wall where he can’t escape.

“What are you tired of, Nico?” Hazel asked. Her voice was trembling the tiniest amount but she clearly didn’t want it to show.

Nico felt his shoulders slump. He took a deep breath, the stuffy, warm, uncomfortable air scratching his throat. “I’m tired of breathing.”

Hazel waits for him to expand, but like always, he doesn’t. She lets him go and he does. He runs as fast and as far as he can. He doesn’t want to be found. Not by her, not by his father or step-mother, not by Hazel’s friends, not by Mr Brunner. He’s gasping when he slows down, not exactly sure where he is, but not exactly caring. It feels like he’s been stabbed in the chest and each breath worsens the wound. He slows to a walk, tired of running. Tired of breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have no idea how high schools in the rest of the world work, but where I live lunch and recess are at the same time for the entire school, which is why the whole place is so empty after Hazel calls Nico to come in and he arrives just after lunchtime.  
> Not sure about other schools, but my school also has a year advisor for each year who students talk to when they have any problems about school or something.


	6. Tired of Living

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? A chapter only ONE WEEK after the last? Some king of miracle? Well, I mean, aside from the heart-breaking-ness of this story I guess. Anyway, second last chapter, DONE!
> 
> WARNING  
> References to suicidal thoughts sort of.

Somehow, he made it through the following week. He avoided his father and step-mother and Hazel and her friends. He sat apart from everyone else at class, keeping his head down as the teachers’ words bounce meaninglessly around in his brain. He ditched history completely, unwilling to see Mr Brunner again. He tried to avoid Clarisse, too.

But despite that, they seemed to find him. Mr Brunner’s sad eyes followed Nico as he runs away down the hallway. Nico’s phone rang constantly from texts Hazel’s friends send at all hours of the day, wanting him to hang out with them. He always declined. Clarisse cornered him, before school, at recess, at lunch, after school.

Nico’s parents started to ignore him, too. Well, his step-mother did. Whenever Hazel brought it up (he could hear her from his bedroom), his step-mother dismissed it immediately, changing the subject and pretending she didn’t know what Hazel was talking about. His father looked at him with sad eyes whenever they were in the same room, and tried to talk to him, but Nico left as quickly as he could.

Nico sighed to himself, kicking a stone as he trudged home from school by himself. He’d taken to spending hours in the library until he knew everyone who might ambush him on the way home was long gone.

Unfortunately, he was unlucky. “Nico! Hey!”

Nico didn’t look up, but he courteously stopped when he heard the person calling out to him. He heard footsteps running, and a moment later the smell of ocean met his nose. Oh, great. Percy Jackson.

“Hey Nico.” Percy said again, falling into step with Nico as the smaller boy started walking again, pace fast. Unfortunately, Percy had longer legs than Nico and was easily able to keep pace with him.

“Hey.” Nico muttered. “Percy.”

“How’s it going?” Percy said, fidgeting uncomfortably.

“Fine. Everything is fine.” Nico said, still staring at the ground. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Have you been able to get enough sleep lately?” Percy asked.

“Alright.” Nico stopped walking and spun around to face Percy, glaring into his sea-green eyes. “How many times has Hazel lectured you on what to ask when you see me? Because do you really expect me _not_ to be suspicious?”

Percy grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. But I am worried about you. You’re my friend.”

“No. I’m not.” Nico said. Friends make sure their parents don’t lock each other in the basement. Friends don’t leave each other behind. Friends don’t ignore each other’s existence. Friends make sure each other is alright even when they know the other is. Nico and Percy are not friends.

Nico turned back to the ground and kept walking.

Percy was silent for a few moments, then said, “Well, at least for Hazel’s sake, Nico.”

“Huh?” Nico asked.

“At least pretend you’re my friend,” Percy said. “For Hazel.”

“For Hazel.” Nico repeated emptily. Did his half-sister really care about him _that_ much? Unlikely.

“Yeah.” Percy said.

Nico kept glaring at his feet as he crossed a road and kept walking. Percy kept pace with him.

“Percy.” Nico said.

“Yeah?”

“You’re house is back down that street.” Nico pointed behind them with a thumb.

“I know.” Percy hummed.

“Then why are you still walking this way?” Nico took a deep breath to keep his voice level and calm. He was not going to get angry about something as stupid as Percy Jackson. He was tired of being angry at Percy Jackson.

Percy made a little humming sound and shrugged. “Is there any particular reason why I _can’t_ walk this way?”

Nico sighed in aggravation and picked up his pace. So did Percy. Nico glanced up for a moment. Only three more blocks and he’d be home. Then he could get rid of Percy, there was no way the older boy would want to risk another encounter with Nico’s father or step-mother.

“Fine. Do whatever you want.” Nico decided. “It’s not like I care.”

“Aw, come on. Don’t be that way.” Percy said playfully. “You used to get so excited whenever I walked all the way home with you.”

“I was a dumb kid.” Nico muttered, feeling a blush spread across his cheeks. He turned his head away from Percy. Percy didn’t know about the crush. Percy didn’t _need_ to know about the crush.

“At least you smiled then.” Percy said. There was a beat of stillness between them, hollow, unfilled. Then Percy blurted. “Do you ever wonder why people change so much?”

 “Nope.” Nico said firmly. Nico _had_ wondered, a long time ago. He had continually asked himself why he changed so much. Why nothing was funny anymore. Why everything was awful. But he’d found his answer. It was his fault. Everything awful that happened was Nico’s own fault.

“Well, I do.” Percy said.

“Of course you do.” Nico muttered under his breath. He glanced ahead again. Just cross the road and half way down the block and he could get away from Percy. Nico’s eyes returned to the footpath. He watched Percy carelessly step on a weed growing out of a crack. Huh. That felt like a pretty good metaphor for Nico’s own life.

Nico stepped off the curb and onto the road, still thinking about the weed and how Percy crushed it without meaning to. Unintentionally destroyed the life of something, leaving it broken and bent on the street.

“Nico! Car!” Percy’s arm swung up and hit Nico’s chest. A moment later there was the screech of rubber on bitumen and a car stopped inches from Nico. Percy’s breath was coming fast. Nico just stood there, staring at the car and at the wide-eyed driver who’d almost run him over.

Percy’s hand grabbed Nico’s arm and pulled him off the road. The car rolled slowly past, turned the corner and drove away.

“Nico, are you okay man?” Percy asked. One of Percy’s hands was still tight on Nico’s arm, the other was clutched over his heart. He was clearly in shock. Nico felt nothing but cold disinterest.

“I’m fine.” He said, words numb. “Uh, thanks I guess.”

He didn’t really feel particularly thankful. He didn’t really care that Percy Jackson has just saved his life. The full impact of that hit Nico and he flinched away from Percy, tugging his arm out of the older boy’s grasp.

“Nico?” Percy asked cautiously.

“What’s wrong with me?” Nico muttered dazedly, then turned and bolted towards his house. He could hear Percy running behind him, but Nico had a head-start. He vaulted over the front gate and pelted up the garden path, gravel spraying out behind him. Nico pushed open the unlocked door and slammed it closed the moment he was inside, locking it then sinking down against it, breathing hard.

He couldn’t hear Percy’s footsteps on the gravel, or the creak of the gate. Nico stood again and risked a look outside. Percy was just turning and walking away. Nico sighed in relief and turned around, coming face to face with Hazel.

“H-Hazel-”

She took his hand, running her fingers comfortingly over his knuckles, and half led, half dragged him into the dining room. She dropped his hand and sat at the table, looking at him expectantly. Nico slumped his shoulders and followed suit, sitting silently across from her and staring at the wooden table.

“Nico. . .” Hazel murmured. “I’m not going to ask why you were running from Percy. But I need to know.”

 _Here it comes_. Nico thought gloomily.

“What’s wrong, Nico?” Hazel asked, voice soft.

Nico’s stomach twisted as he thought of the car incident. How he didn’t care if that car hit him and if it killed him. “I’m tired.”

Nico was expecting the standard ‘of what’ question. He desperately searched for an answer, so lost in his own confusing mind that he nearly missed what Hazel next said.

“Please tell me what’s wrong. And _don’t_ say it’s nothing.” Hazel’s voice was wobbly now. Nico risked a glance up and saw her eyes were full of tears. “What are you tired of?”

Despite himself, despite the fact that lying would hurt Hazel less, despite the fact that Nico could hardly face the truth himself, he couldn’t bring himself to lie anymore. Not to Hazel. “I’m tired. I’m so, so tired of _living_.”

They both sat in silence for another minute, Hazel’s fingers tapping nervously on the table, Nico’s eyes counting each and every thread on the table-cloth. Finally, the silence grew so heavy that Nico thought he was going to get crushed by it. He stood, wincing as the chair scrapped against the floor, loud in the silent house.

Hazel made no move to follow him, so Nico turned and began to walk away. Before he could even reach the door, he heard Hazel’s chair scrape back and her footsteps dart around the table and across the room.

And then her warm arms were wrapping around his waist in a hug. Nico turned and buried his face in her hair. It smelt like cinnamon and cookies. Hazel was shuddering slightly, voice wobbly as she whispered sweet nothings to him.

It made Nico feel safe and warm and _loved_. He smiled. When she finally let him go she looked up at his eyes. “I- I want you to be happy, Nico.”

Hazel’s warmth seemed to of seeped into Nico’s very heart, making him feel fuzzy and soft and safe. He smiled. “I want you to be happy too, Hazel.”

Nico turned and left, feeling happy and hopeful for the first time in a long time.


	7. Done.

“-please, you need to talk to him, dad.” That was Hazel’s voice. “He won’t listen to me.”

Nico closed the door as silently as he could, hoping that the heavy lock clicking into place didn’t alert his sister and father.

“Hazel, I have spoken to Nico.” Their father said firmly. “And he has assured me that he will not continue this behaviour.”

No such conversation had taken place. Nico scowled at the blatant lies his father was telling Hazel.

“It’s not about how he acts!” Hazel exclaimed. Nico heard her sniff before she said, “Percy said he nearly got run over and didn’t even care! He’s always so sad and tired! I think he needs help, but he won’t listen to me. Please, help him-”

Nico made sure they could hear his footsteps echoing on the wooden floor as he approached the living room. His sister and father fell silent as Nico entered.

“Hey Nico.” Hazel smiled, bright but strained. “You’re home late.”

“Five forty three.” Nico said. “No later than any other night.”

“Um, well,” Hazel said. “Are you hungry?”

“I ate earlier.” Nico hadn’t. “I’m going to my room, I’ve got some homework to finish.”

“Do you want some help?” Hazel asked, following as Nico turned and walked out of the room.

“No.”

“What about some company? We haven’t spent any time together in ages, Nico.”

“No.” Nico repeated, then worried he’d sounded too lifeless, added. “Thank you. I’m just busy right now, we can, um, talk later?”

“Yeah.” Hazel agreed as Nico turned into his room. “I’d like that.”

Nico tried for a smile as he closed the door.

“And I’m not gonna forget, Neeks!” Hazel’s voice was muffled through the closed door.

“I know.” He called back. Nico dropped his bag and stared at his room. It was untouched since he’d left early in the morning. Unlike the rest of the house, which Nico’s step-mother had polished till it shone so brightly Nico’s eyes stung, his room had been left alone. That was slightly odd, though not exactly unexpected.

While his step-mother hated dust and mess, two things that there were a lot of in Nico’s room, there was no doubt in his mind that his step-mother would go out of her way not to clean his room if she was upset with him. She hated him.

Nico sighed, dust catching in his throat and causing him to cough. Why _was_ breathing so hard now days? At least he wouldn’t have school tomorrow. He could just watch the shadows move slowly across his bedroom ceiling and focus on trying to breath in the dusty air.

Except he had to talk to Hazel. It was so, so hard to continue to pretend everything was fine in front of her. He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted her help, her support. But whenever they spoke, whenever she asked him what was wrong or if she could help, he couldn’t get the words out of his mouth. They stuck in his throat and his default answer of ‘it’s nothing, I’m just tired’ came out instead.

“Nico!” Hazel’s voice, muffled slightly by the door, interrupted Nico’s thoughts. “It’s dinnertime.”

“I’m not hungry.” Nico called back.

“You didn’t eat breakfast.” Hazel said. “You have to eat something.”

“Not hungry.” Nico repeated.

“Well, you have to eat something.” Hazel repeated. She opened the door and saw Nico on his bed, the lack of lights dimming the room almost to complete blackness.

“You said you were doing homework.” Hazel accused.

“I finished it.” Nico said, not looking at Hazel, not willing to meet her eyes because there as a fifty percent chance they’d be teary.

“Dinner is pasta. Dad cooked it.” Hazel said. She walked over to stand by his bed. Nico was glad that, due to the dim lighting, he couldn’t see if there _were_ tears in her eyes. When Nico didn’t respond to her, Hazel went on, “He said it’s the same recipe as your mum cooked sometimes. The one you like.”

“Great.” Nico said unenthusiastically.

“Come on.” Hazel pulled on his arm. “Please, I don’t think you’ve eaten anything for the last few days.”

“I ate breakfast.” Nico volunteered, trying to get Hazel not to worry.

“What did you eat?”

“Half an apple.”

“Nico.” Hazel protested, grabbing his arm.

“I’m not hungry.” Nico said again. But he allowed his sister to pull him to his feet and drag him out of his bedroom, down the hall and into the dining room. Their father and step-mother was sitting at the table already. His father smiled gently when Nico entered, but his step-mother sniffed haughtily and ignored him.

“Nico, I am glad you decided to join us.” His father said as Nico sat down next to Hazel. His plate was already full of pasta, it seemed that, even if he’d tried to fight it, he would have had no chance of not eating this time.

“How is school going, Nico?” His father tried.

“Go on, answer him.” Hazel whispered.

Nico hated this. The way they treated him like a little kid and talked down to him. So he didn’t answer. He just picked at his food disinterestedly.

“Nico di Angelo.” His step-mother said. Her voice was grating to Nico, like nails on a chalkboard. “Your grades are failing. For the last few months we have let you be, given you a chance to fix your grades yourself. But you have done no such thing. In fact, if anything, your grades have slipped even further. We want to know why.”

Nico stayed silent. There was no way to explain this hopeless, empty, tired feelings. And there was no way he was even going to try to explain it to his step-mother of all people.

“Don’t ignore me.” His step-mother snapped.

Nico glanced up at her for a split second, acknowledging her existence, then stared back at his food again.

“Nico, please talk to us.” His father said. “We would like to help you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me.” Nico said, voice cracking. He stood up.

“Nico, sit down and eat your food.” His step-mother commanded.

Nico stepped away from the table. “I’m not hungry.”

“You are behaving like a child, Nico!” His step-mother snapped.

“I don’t care.”

“We have been putting up with your immature behaviour for weeks.” His step-mother said. “I’ve have given you every chance possible to tell me what’s wrong and to improve your behaviour, but you have done nothing to do so! In fact, you have been behaving worse and worse! You’re acting like a spoilt brat who expects to get everything on a silver spoon.”

Nico turned away, fists clenched. His steps were small and tight as he walked away

“Nico!” Hazel exclaimed. “That’s not true, please don’t leave-”

Nico left the room, slamming the door behind him. By the time he reached his bedroom his father and step-mother had started yelling. He couldn’t make out the words, but he knew it was about him. Nico locked his bedroom door.

Nico turned, made his way across his room and fell face first onto his bed, closing his eyes and trying to get some sleep. Not that he really expected to be able to. His step-mother’s words echoed in his mind. _You are behaving like a child . . . you have been behaving worse and worse . . . you’re acting like a spoilt brat_.

She was right. Nico _was_ acting like an immature child. And he hated it. He pulled out his phone, finding the loudest music he could and blasting it through his headphones, trying to drown his thoughts in sound. Then he curled up on his bed and stared at the wall.

He wasn’t sure how long it had taken him to fall into a fitful sleep, but he knew that it was daytime when he woke up. Pale, weak sunlight was shining through his window. He was instantly aware of how loud his thoughts were, snide comments and cruel accusations.

Hazel would be better off without him. Her friends would be better off without him. Their parents would be better off without him. Everyone would be better off. Nothing would change.

Desperate to once again drown the thoughts, Nico pulled out his headphones and blasted his music as loud as he could. He didn’t care if everyone could hear it. He didn’t care if they were annoyed. He had to get those thoughts out of his head.

Nico curled up tighter, trying not to think. For a while it semi-worked. Nico stared at the shadows moving slowly across the wall, mentally chanting his old excuse of ‘I’m just tired. I’ll be fine after I get some sleep’ over and over.

A few dull thuds just above the sound of his music jolted him out of the familiar thought path. Someone knocking on his bedroom’s door. Nico ignored it. That would just be his parents telling him to turn the music off. But whoever was outside his door kept knocking.

Finally, Nico turned over to glare at the door. Just that effort made him feel tired. Which in turn made him feel pathetic. He tried clearing his throat quietly, working himself up to yelling at whoever was behind the door.

But a sudden thought stopped him. What if it wasn’t his father or step-mother behind the door? What if it was _Hazel?_ His sweet, kind little sister. He couldn’t yell at her. No matter how awful he felt. She didn’t deserve him. Especially not like this.

“Nico?”

He could hardly hear the voice over the sound of the music still pounding at his brain, attempting to smother his thoughts.

“Nico, it’s me. Hazel.”

God, Nico was glad he hadn’t yelled. What on earth would she think of him if he yelled at her?

“Nico, what’s wrong?”

Nico slowly sat up, staring at his door all the while. He wasn’t sure what thoughts were going through his head, if any at all.

“What’s wrong?”

Nico reached for his phone. He turned the music off. Slowly, shakily, he walked to the door and slumped down against it.

He made his voice work. “I’m tired.”

That was all he could make himself say. That was all he could feel. Tired. Tired of everything.

Hazel’s voice was so, so small. “Of what?”

Everything, he wanted to say. Of trying, of hoping, of coping, of existing, of breathing, of living. Of the disappointed eyes that everyone looked at him with. Of the impossible standards. Of his failure to meet them again and again and again. Tired of himself.

“Nico?” Hazel whispers.

Nico forced himself to hold back a chocked sob. "I'm done."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There, it's finally finished. I'm so sorry for taking so long, but life is a pain.
> 
> Thank you so much to anyone who's read this far and is taking the time to read my thanks now. I really appreciate you reading my depressing trash. I feel like I should put some long sentimental speech here, but my brain is literally dead. I hope you enjoyed, thanks again.


End file.
